


Valentine's Selection

by lamentomori



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Chocolate, F/F, Fluff, LIJ may be a family but sometimes they're more, M/M, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 04:31:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17780615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamentomori/pseuds/lamentomori
Summary: A collection of little fics written on request for Valentine's day - Pairing included in each chapter summary





	1. Our Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickie James/Trish Stratus

The line between crush, obsession, and love is thin. It probably shouldn’t be, and yet it feels like it is. Mickie had told herself she wasn’t in love. It’s a crush, maybe an obsession. Trish hadn’t let her lie to herself for too long though. She’d taken her out, gotten her drunk, gotten a confession, or something like it from her.

_It’s not that I’m in love with you! It’s like a crush, or something, you know?_

_Uh-huh… You know Mickie, I love you._

_You what… I…_

_I love you, you dumbass. Now, come dance with me._

Mickie had been thrown. Trish just blew her away with that blunt, calm, drunken confession. The song playing in the bar became  _their_  song. One that’s sound-tracked all manner of important moments in their lives. It played the first time they kissed, which was that night to be fair. It’d played the first time they made love. It played in the first car they bought, and then their apartment. It’s  _their_  song, and Mickie loves it almost as much as she loves Trish.

Valentine’s isn’t something they overly celebrate, but Mickie always fusses over it. Trish doesn’t, but Mickie wants to get her beloved something. She’s done chocolates, and flowers, and photo albums, and a million other things besides. This year though, she’s got a new idea. Trish is always charmed by Mickie’s little moments of romance, and she’s certain this particular show is going to get her quite the reward. It’d taken some time to master the skills needed for this gift, so it better.

Trish is beautiful when she sleeps, her hair spilling over the pillows, the blanket tugged up under her chin. Mickie adjusts her costume, silly as it is, she’s pleased with how cute she looks dressed as Cupid. She slips her guitar strap over her head, and sits on the edge of the bed, starting to strum.

“All I wanted was a sweet distraction for an hour or two,” she starts to sing. Trish wakes up slowly, a beautiful smile spreads over her lips. Her hand reaching out to rest on Mickie’s thigh, her voice joining in on  _their_  song.


	2. Los Ingos Impromptu Dating Agency Strikes Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> El Desperado/Zack Saber Jr

“So, did you ask the Los Dickheads to get me a Valentine’s?” Desperado glances up from his phone. Zack sets the stylishly wrapped box on the table. Elegant white paper, and a thick crimson ribbon, definitely not something he’d bought, or been expecting.

“I did not.” Desperado goes back to his Twitter feed. Hungover Taichi is having a moment, and it’s vaguely amusing. Zack shoves the box closer to Desperado. He looks almost as annoyed with the box as he is intrigued. “Who’s it addressed to?”

“To,” Zack reads the card, “you. You’re sure this isn’t their doing? Didn’t they give you presents to give me for Christmas?” Zack’s picking at the tape on the box. LIJ did help him out before, but he’s kind of been avoiding them lately, at least outside of the ring, where he’s definitely getting far too involved with them.

“Open it then, you’re clearly dying to.” Desperado sets his phone down, and gives what he thinks is his best, most winning smile. Zack raises an eyebrow, and picks a piece of tape off the package.

“It addressed to you, you should help.” Zack looks to be almost pouting.

“I don’t think you need help opening a present, it’s not like it’s hard.” Desperado laughs, and rests his chin on his fist. “I’ll message Hiromu.”

“You will not.” Zack snaps, tearing another strip of tape off the box. It’s definitely hilarious how much even a mention of Hiromu sparks jealousy in Zack. He fires a quick message off, having mastered the art of one-handed texting long ago. “Ask the chief dickhead, but not his little fucking weirdo.”

“Like I have Naito’s fucking number.” Desperado mutters, poking the parcel absently. “Open it.” Zack rolls his eyes, and starts attacking the wrapping paper, ripping it off with almost glee. Beneath the paper, there’s nothing but a big, plain box.

“Did they send you a game of pass the fucking parcel?” Zack pulls the long strip of tape off the box, and opens it. Inside are two more boxes. “For fuck sake.” Zack takes them out the big box, and hands Desperado one of them. “I’m kind of jealous, yours is bigger.” Desperado laughs, his parcel is bigger. “Open yours.” Zack’s prying the wrapping paper off his parcel, and starts cackling once it’s open enough for him to see what it is. “Every time I think those assholes are the worst,” he’s chuckling to himself, pulling the last of the paper off, revealing a purple box of chocolates. “All because the lady loves.” Zack opens the box, and picks one out. “You can have the orange ones, I don’t like them.”

“Hey, I thought chocolate wasn’t vegan.” Desperado picks out the chocolate shaped like an orange segment.

“This has been approved, look.” Zack flashes the box’s lid at Desperado. It’s all in English, and means little to nothing to Desperado, but Zack seems contented with that. “So, what’s in your box?” Desperado shrugs. His phone chirps.

“Well, Hiromu denies all knowledge of it. He’s asking around.” Zack shoots him an icy glare, and Desperado unwraps the box, then barks a laugh. Inside the box are several bottles of hair treatments, and a little note.

_I assumed you’d have forgotten to get your beau anything for Valentine’s, so I thought I’d help. Please use the damn conditioner before you give him the chocolates, and take him out – the directions are to a very nice restaurant, reservations are under Mikami. Have a nice time, regards Bushi_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for @elmowseperado on tumblr


	3. Happy Valentine’s, Mama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tetsuya Naito/Bushi/Hiromu Takahashi

Even from bed, Bushi can hear noise in the kitchen. For a moment, he grants himself the luxury of just lying in his own bed, surrounded by his own pillows, and his own blankets, with the scent of his lovers clinging to both. It would be better if they were still in bed with him, but he knows where they are. The clatter of one of his pans makes that clear.

“They better not be fucking on the counter again.” Bushi grumbles, rolling out of bed, stretching his back, and putting on his robe.

The scene that greets him in the kitchen is familiar. Hiromu is perched on one of the counters, near the stove, Naito between his spread legs, thankfully his pants appear to be in the _on_ position, but the kiss they’re sharing makes it clear that may not be the state of affairs for long. Hiromu’s legs wrap around Naito’s waist, his hands are clutching and tugging at Naito’s hair, holding him close. Naito scoops Hiromu up, lifts him off the counter, and awkwardly hobbling the few steps to deposit Hiromu on a stool, giving Naito better leverage to bear down on him, pressing him back to drape at an uncomfortable looking angle over the breakfast bar, still kissing him with a frantic, almost animalistic desire.

“Want you,” Naito’s voice is a low growl, barely audible to Bushi standing the doorway.

“We’re supposed,” Hiromu’s cut off by Naito kissing him again, slower this time, more gentle, the sort of kiss that works wonders when it comes to Naito getting his own way. Hiromu’s hands trail down from the mess he’s made of Naito’s hair to rest on his shoulders. The intent was clearly to push him away, but Naito steps the kiss up, less gentle, more passionate, one of those infuriatingly all-encompassing kisses he uses to get his own way.

“How many times do I have to tell you, no sex in the kitchen?” Bushi decides to step in and save Hiromu from Naito’s dubious intentions. He gets a delighted, upside down smile from Hiro for his intervention, and a mildly putout, right-side up one from Naito.

“Morning.” He steps away from Hiromu, and comes over to Bushi, catching his lips in a lazy, tender kiss.

“Why do you taste of chocolate?” Bushi pulls back, his eyes narrowed, looking over Naito’s shoulder at the probable source of the chocolate.

“We’re, well, _I’m_ making breakfast.” Hiromu’s back is turned, working at the stove.

“What kind of breakfast involves chocolate?” Bushi is expecting Hiromu to declare the best kind, but instead all he gets is a shrug.

“Valentine’s breakfast.” Naito sounds ridiculously smug, peppering Bushi’s shoulder with kisses.

“Chocolate isn’t,” Naito pecks him on the lips, “a,” another peck of a kiss, “healthy,” yet another peck, “start to the day.” Bushi had shoved his hand over Naito’s mouth, but he didn’t cover the amused gleam in his eyes.

“Hiromu’s accounted for this, didn’t you?” Naito’s grinning, the sort of grin you’d expect the Cheshire Cat to wear. “He has strawberries to go with our chocolate, don’t you?”

“Which you are supposed to be removing the stalks from.” Hiromu grumbles, glancing over his shoulder.

“I got distracted,” Naito’s hands slide down Bushi’s back, to cup and squeeze his ass.

“That seems to happen a lot.” Bushi shoves at his shoulders, creating some space between he and Naito. “You want my help, baby?” Bushi sidles up to Hiromu, wrapping an arm around his waist. Hiromu had been melting chocolate in a little bowl over a pan of water. Beside the stove is a pile of plump, vibrantly red strawberries. Definitely not the healthiest breakfast, but certainly romantic. There’s little prettier than Hiromu’s soft, lips wrapped around fruit, and Naito does look so very good with his lips stained red; definitely a romantic start to the day.

“Nah, I’m good, mama.” Hiromu bumps against Bushi’s shoulder, and smiles at him fondly. “Breakfast is ready, by the way.” Bushi plucks the biggest, juiciest strawberry from the pile, dips it into the bowl of melted chocolate, and takes a bite.

“Hmm, tasty.” Bushi rubs the bitten strawberry against Hiromu’s lips. He leans in for a kiss. Hiromu moans quietly, deepening the kiss, his hands coming up to cradle Bushi’s head. “Happy Valentine’s, baby.” Hiromu smiles at that, and kisses Bushi again. Naito’s lips brush Bushi’s fingers as he bites the all but forgotten strawberry Bushi’s still holding.

“These are good.” Naito’s arm coils about Bushi’s waist, holding him close, his other arm is over Hiromu’s shoulders, his hand in his hair. “Another one, please.” His mouth hangs open, waiting for someone to feed him. Bushi takes another strawberry, dips it in the chocolate, and offers it to Hiromu. “Hey, what about me?” Naito grumbles, accepting the second bite of the strawberry, with a self-satisfied smile on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for @tealtier on tumblr


	4. Partners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rush/Tetsuya Naito, implied Dragon Lee/Hiromu Takahashi

He’d been waiting for the bed to dip behind him. He’d been waiting for long, fine fingers to trail up his arms, then for strong arms to coil around his waist. He’d been waiting for the slightly pained, slightly exhausted moan of contentment to sound against his back, and for a soft kiss to be pressed between his shoulder blades. He’d been waiting for Naito. As soon as he’d been informed that Naito was to be coming back to Mexico, he’d been waiting. Their actual reunion, the best reunion, the one not in the ring, or in public, is going to have to wait. Naito had been delayed by his little protégé, wanting to see for himself how well Rush has been looking after the demon of a child for him. Possibly not well enough, Lee seems a little too fond of him, and poor Mistico seems exasperated by the whole situation.

His waiting finally pays off, Naito gets into bed behind him, and nuzzles against the back of his neck. Rush is about to move, to turn so he can wrap his arms around Naito to hold him closer, when his arms tighten around him.

“Stay like this.” Naito’s Spanish has an odd lilt to it. Not clumsy, not quite inaccurate, but distinct. It’s comforting to hear. Every day they are apart, that lilt springs to his mind, and when he hears it again, warm and soothing in his ear, a little fire is stoked in his heart.

“And if I don’t want to be little spoon, hmm?” Rush runs his fingers along Naito’s arm, closing his eyes once more. From the living room, annoying joined to his bedroom, he can hear his little brothers talking loudly with Hiromu. “You brought everyone back to my place?”

“They followed me, like little ducklings.” Naito laughs softly, pressing more kisses to Rush’s shoulders.

“As you say, pareja.” Rush takes a deep breath, almost upset he’s denied a lungful of the scent of Naito’s hair, but when Naito falls asleep, judging by how drunk he sounds that won’t take long, he’ll twist in Naito’s arms, and tuck him under his chin, basking in the scent of his expensive shampoo. “I’m sure you were a good mother duck.”

“I was _not_.” Naito laughs. “I got them horribly drunk, and couldn’t actually remember my way anywhere but to your bed.” Rush laughs at him. Naito can be very romantic in the most haphazard of ways. There’s a loud thud from Rush’s living room, then the sound of hysterical laughter. “You know, you have a lot of alcohol in your drinks’ cabinet.” Rush groans.

“I feel like I will have _had_ a lot of alcohol.” He mutters. He possibly should have accompanied Naito and the very merry sounding band of baby ducks on their after-show outing.

“I’ll replace it tomorrow.” Naito’s lips brush his back as he talks, his voice getting lower, sleepier. “G’night, love you.”

“Hmm, love you too.” Rush can hear his breathing even out, his tight grip relaxing as he falls asleep. A quieter thud comes from the living room, like someone being gently but forcefully pressed against the wall that joins it to Rush’s bedroom, something murmured in Japanese, a loud laugh he recognises as coming from Lee, and exasperated exclamation, then the sound of the spare room’s door closing. He can’t blame poor Mistico for taking the spare room, at least he assumes that’s what happened, because he can hear little Lee murmuring sweet nothings, and snatches of Hiromu’s low, deep voice responding in incomprehensible Japanese. It must suck being the only one of the three of them without his own pretty Japanese rudo to cuddle and smother in kisses, something Rush gets to do far too rarely. Maybe they should try harder to find him one of his own, it might make him more tranquilo. Another thud, by the sound of things on to the couch. He’s making Lee pay to have his couch professionally cleaned, regardless if he’s actually fucking Hiromu on it right now or not. Hiromu moans, just loud enough to make it through the miserably thin walls in his apartment. He’s making Lee buy him a new couch. He’s always wanted a nice black leather one, with wooden feet, the kind that looks even more expensive than it is, and is wipe clean. Finally, the sound of the back of the couch hitting the far wall stops. The bathroom door opens, and closes, and the sound of the shower is muted, like rain falling, soothing, calming. They better not fuck in his shower. “If they’re fucking in my shower, I’m making you clean it, Naito.” Rush mutters, he gets a slight snore from Naito for that. Still, it’s been a long time since Lee sniffing around his gatito, he can’t really blame him for being so energetic about finally working up the courage to do something with his interest. “Tomorrow, pareja, we’re getting drunk, and fucking on _his_ couch, okay?” Another snore, and Rush turns in Naito’s arm, pressing his face to his hair, taking a deep breath. “After he buys me a new one though.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for @tothehounds on tumblr


	5. Chocolatier Duplicity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LIJ/LIJ

“What are they doing?” Sanada glances down, seeing only a messy tuft of hair poking out from under a blanket at his side.

“Tempering the chocolate.” Sanada wraps an arm around Hiromu’s shoulders, pulling him closer to press against his side.

“They’re doing it wrong.” Hiromu yawns, snuggling against Sanada.

“I know.” Sanada guides Hiromu to stand in front of him, plastering himself to his back. He steals the blanket first, wrapping it around his shoulders, and then around Hiromu once more.

“They’re over-heating…it’s gonna get all grainy.” Sanada will take Hiromu’s word for it, he knows nothing about cooking with chocolate, but Hiromu’s keen sweet-tooth means he knows a thing or two about it.

“This is the second batch.” Sanada murmurs against Hiromu’s hair. Hiromu snorts dismissively, and squirms slightly, settling himself more comfortably against Sanada.

“I’m surprised, mama’s usually better at cooking than that.”

“I am, but I don’t usually deal with chocolate.” Bushi snaps, not looking up from the pan. “This wasn’t my idea, was it?” Evil gets a dirty look with that comment.

“I thought it’d be a nice surprise.” Evil mutters. He’s resolutely blocking the view of what he and Bushi are actually doing with the chocolate.

“And it will be, so long as someone takes someone else away.” With that, Sanada wraps his arms about Hiromu’s waist, and picks him up.

“A surprise for me?” Hiromu asks, squirming a little, trying to get free from Sanada’s tight grip.

“Maybe it’s a surprise for me.” Sanada setS him down on the sofa, draping the blanket over Hiromu. “So, you know what today is?”

“Uh… Thursday?” Hiromu moves, drawing Sanada closer, letting him rest his head against his chest. “Oh, _oh_ , it’s Valentine’s isn’t it?” Sanada presses a kiss to Hiromu’s chest rather than answering properly. “Happy Valentine’s.” Sanada twists, and presses a lazy kiss to Hiromu’s lips. “You gonna go see Milano-san?”

“Nah,” Sanada slides his hand into Hiromu’s hair, kissing him again. “I’ll go see him tomorrow.” Hiromu raises an eyebrow, clearly sceptical of Sanada’s statement. “I called him earlier.” Hiromu leans up, kissing him.

“You didn’t want to spend the most romantic day in the year with your fox?” Hiromu tugs lightly on Sanada’s beard.

“I decided to spend it home instead.” Sanada catches Hiromu’s wrist, and kisses over his knuckles. A fond little smile spills over Hiromu’s lips, and he kisses Sanada’s forehead.

“Sit up.” Sanada glances up, Naito’s standing there, a grin on his face. “Sit up, Hiro.” Hiromu grumbles, but does as he was asked.

“Where were you?” Naito’s slid in behind Hiromu, and shrugs in response to Hiromu’s question. “Where’s Shingo-san?”

“Here,” Shingo perches on the end of the couch at Sanada’s feet.

“You were out guard dragon-ing Naito, Shingo-san?” Hiromu laughs, which gets a slight smile from Shingo.

“He’s a troublesome charge,” Shingo shifts a little closer, and ruffles Hiromu’s hair, “but we managed to return in one piece.”

“He’s lying, we completed our mission flawlessly, little weasel, don’t listen to the tiny dragon.” Naito’s comment gets a loud guffaw from Shingo.

“I’m sure it was very efficient,” Hiromu offers soothingly, his hands are running through Sanada’s hair slowly, even as he’s smiling at Naito. Sanada rests his head against Hiromu’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, slow and soothing. For a long time, Sanada’s lulled into a vague doze by the sound of Hiromu’s heart. It’s nice.

“Lemme try one.” Hiromu’s excited voice wakes Sanada up. “They look pretty good.” Sanada sits up, and is slightly surprised by Bushi and Evil’s efforts. He’d expected their chocolates to look pretty good, mostly because Bushi was involved, but not this good.

“Open up.” Evil’s beaming as he pops one of the candies into Hiromu’s mouth. “It okay?”

“S’good.” Hiromu shifts beneath Sanada again, making grabby hands at Evil. “You did a good job.” Evil’s still beaming as he leans down to press a quick kiss to Hiromu’s lips. Sanada opens his mouth, waiting to get his chocolate. It’s not bad, he’s not sure what Evil did to this chocolate, it’s like he’s added some caramel to it. It is good, which is a surprised based on the mess he and Bushi had been making. Evil sets the little plate of chocolates down on the table, and sits on the floor, leaning into Hiromu’s hand that reaches out to run through his hair instantly.

“Here, try these ones.” Bushi’s perched on the arm of the couch, his chocolates are white, flecked with little bits of red. “I think they’re better, but we’ll trust your educated opinion, baby.” Bushi is petting Hiromu’s hair fondly, smiling down at him as Hiromu eats the chocolate. “Good, right?” Hiromu nods.

“Whose are better?” Evil leans back, looking up at Bushi. Hiromu shrugs.

“Both are nice…I’ll need to eat more to know for sure.” He chuckles. “But they’re a very nice surprise.”

“Hey, lemme up, and I’ll do the dishes.” Sanada clambers carefully off Hiromu. For a moment, Evil looks at him with a slightly shocked expression, but he says nothing. Bushi takes Sanada’s spot on top of Hiromu, shooting him a meaningful glance.

The kitchen is spotless. The kitchen bin is full of empty chocolate boxes though, and there’s a note on top of it.

_Empty the trash – say nothing to Hiro – Thank you, Seiya_ _♥_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for @azumaeasahi on tumblr


	6. Local Man Looks To Get His Funk On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slight Ryusuke Taguchi/Prince Devitt

“So, Ryu, what’s the plans for tonight?” Devitt’s almost hoping there aren’t plans for tonight. He’s tired, sore, and kind of wants to take advantage of the nice-looking bath in their hotel room. He’s got some Radox salts from home, decanted into a little travel bottle by his mum and labelled with big letter _so they won’t think you’re taking drugs into the country_. No amount of _drugs aren’t usually this colour or this scent_ would persuade her not to label the bottle of salts, and really, it’s nice that she was thinking of him.

“Ah,” a heavy sigh, and Ryusuke flops down onto the bench beside him. “There are no plans.” Ryusuke wipes a fake tear from his eye. “Valentine’s and the Funky Weapon is without a sheath.” He sighs again, and Devitt glances over at him. “Surely, a handsome young man like you must have a date on this most romantic of nights.”

“My date is a bathtub, and at most my right hand.” Devitt laughs. Ryusuke laughs at him, and waves his left hand.

“You don’t wanna try Ms Right’s sister, Ms Left?” He waggles his fingers at Devitt, laughing to himself. “You wanna come have a beer before you go on your date?” He’s not sure he should have a beer, but Ryusuke has a slightly hangdog look on his face.

“Ah, go on.” He claps Ryusuke on the shoulder.

The walk to the bar nearest to the hotel is quick, made quicker by Ryusuke’s rambling, Devitt has no idea what he’s rambling about, but he’s charming in his nonsense. He’s not really expecting Devitt to join in, it’s more of monologue, an amusing one, but a monologue, and Devitt’s fine with that.

“Roses?” An old woman, a pair of buckets of roses hanging off a stick balanced on her shoulder, appears from almost nowhere. She’s thrusting a rose into Devitt’s face before his brain has processed what’s happening. “Rose for your girlfriend, handsome foreign boy?” Devitt shakes his head. She tuts, and thrusts the rose at Ryusuke. “Wife?” She almost sounds accusing. Ryusuke laughs nervously, and pulls some money from his pockets, handing it to her. She raises an eyebrow, and picks a rose from her bucket. She hands it to Ryusuke, her eyes still on Devitt.

“I’ve no money.” Devitt says it in slow awkward Japanese, the old woman’s nose wrinkles, unimpressed, and wanders off. “You think she cursed me?” Ryusuke looks over at him. Devitt stares back. “I’m serious!” Ryusuke laughs, and shakes his head.

“Of course not, she didn’t give you anything. Don’t worry, to curse you, she’d need to give you something like a talisman.” Ryusuke assures him. Devitt feels a little better, but not entirely certain. He’s sure old saleswomen are capable of cursing people easily enough.

The first beer goes down far too smoothly. The second he sips at, and listens to Ryusuke talk. He doesn’t have much to say. He’s much fonder of listening to Ryusuke ramble. He offers a few comments, but mostly he’s just listening.

“So,” they’re on beer five, and Ryusuke is looking rosy cheeked, and a little fuzzy, “I should get back to my room, we’ve got a match tomorrow.” He drains his beer. “Before I go, who should I date tonight?” He holds his hands up, and the ridiculousness of the situation hits Devitt in a wash. He starts laughing, his face in his hands. “Are you offering to date me?” Ryusuke sounds on the edge of being serious, a strange place for him.

“Ms Left, she’ll do you right.” Devitt decides it’s better, as it usually is, to ignore anything Ryusuke says that might sound too forward.

“Ah, the stranger?” Ryusuke grins at him, and tucks the rose he’d bought from the street vendor, into Devitt’s shirt pocket. “Happy Valentine’s, partner.” Ryusuke grins, and ruffles Devitt’s hair. “Have a nice date.” He winks, and pulls his coat on. Devitt takes the rose from his pocket, and smiles at it.

“Happy Valentine’s, Ryu.” He blows a kiss as Ryusuke leaves with a laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for @renoyes


	7. Open Your Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Milano Collection A.T./SANADA

Milano loves his boy. He loves how haughty and elegant he can be. He loves how ridiculous and funny he can be. He loves his rambunctious, bratty side. He loves every aspect of his boy, but most of all, he loves his obedience. Quiet, swift, unquestioning obedience. He’s so happy to obey, to fulfil any wish Milano could have, like by being in his company all of the stresses and concerns of being part of, or apart from, his team fall away. There is no need to worry over Bushi’s back, or Hiromu’s neck, Naito’s knees, no need for concern over Evil’s morale, or Shingo’s ability to get along with the others, there is only a need to do as Milano asks, and to do it quickly.

“Close your eyes.” Sanada does as he asked, no pauses, no thinking, just doing. _Good Boy_. There’s a slight smile on his lips. He looks pretty like this, like a model waiting for his makeup to be applied by the artist. Milano considers his handsome face for a moment, and then plucks the first chocolate from the box. He swipes the candy over Sanada’s lips. “Open your mouth.” Again, Sanada complies, no complaint, no thought. “Have a bite.” The chocolate is bitten in half. Sanada’s eyebrows knit, Milano takes the other half of the candy for himself, letting it melt on his tongue. “Did you like it?” Sanada says nothing for a while, considering his words carefully.

“It was okay, a little too sweet.” He licks his lips, and waits again. Milano says nothing. Sanada licks his lips once more. “I don’t really like strawberry flavour things. Strawberries are good, but the flavouring isn’t.” Milano had been waiting for a proper explanation. His good, clever boy worked that out.

“Hmm, I’ll make a note of that.” Milano offers the next chocolate to his boy, watching Sanada take a bite without being asked. He’s not sure if that shows he’s good at pre-empting games, or just wanted to eat chocolate, and was being a brat.

“I like this one.” He’s smiling as he chews. “I like nuts.” A filthy grin spreads over his lips. He’s been spending too much time with his terrible brothers. He’d resent them a lot more if they weren’t impossibly charming, and awfully pretty, in their terribleness. Milano takes the other half of the chocolate, and considers the box, picking out a different one. When Sanada bites it in half, the caramel spills over his lips. Milano leans in quickly, gathering as much as he can with his tongue, before kissing Sanada. His hands slide, unrequested, but not unwelcomed, into Milano’s hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Milano pulls back, considering Sanada thoughtfully. There’s still a great deal of the chocolate left in the box, but he’s growing tired of feeding a passively good boy. One more, then they’re going upstairs, and Milano will encourage Sanada’s bratty side to come out to play so he can put it to bed happy. He chooses the next chocolate carefully.

“Open your mouth.” He gives the entire chocolate to him, letting him chew a few times before leaning for another kiss, chasing the chocolate from Sanada’s mouth. Sanada might not like it, but strawberry is his favourite flavour, and it’d be a shame to waste it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for @okadasanada on tumblr


	8. Grooming as Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bushi/Hiromu Takahashi

Bushi’s not happy. Hiromu can tell. He’s stressed, and annoyed, which is only making him more of each. The more annoyed with things Bushi gets, the more annoyed with himself he becomes, which only leads to him being more stressed. He needs someone to help him forget his troubles for a while, a little distraction to make him feel better for a moment.

He’d decidedly slept alone last night, which had put a stop on Hiromu’s usual distraction technique. Sex is by far the best way to work out stress in Hiromu mind. But with sex out of the question, he’d corralled Naito and Evil both to keep him company, and asked them to clear the apartment out for a few hours in the morning. Naito had given him a meaningful look, and promised him that apartment would be cleared of anyone not Bushi by the time Hiromu got out of bed. Evil had agreed, and Hiromu had fallen asleep, sated and content, cradled in their arms, confident that his plan to cheer up Bushi would work.

“Hiromu! What is that?” Bushi shoots him a horrified look. Hiromu smothers his smug smile. He reaches up, and scuffles his hair. He’d purposefully made sure his hair was a horrific rat’s nest before leaving his bed. “C’mere.” Bushi’s fished the hairbrush out from under the coffee table, and throws a cushion down on the floor. “How can you suffer to have such a mess made of your pretty hair.” Hiromu settles on the cushion, and leans his head back against the couch, smiling up at Bushi.

“I can’t see the top of my head.” Bushi rolls his eyes at that, and taps him on the nose. “You can sort it if it’ll make you happy.”

“I suppose one of us has to take care of this mess.” Bushi tilts Hiromu’s head up, and starts trying to untangle the knots in Hiromu’s hair with his fingers. “How did it even get in this state? When I went to bed, it was fine.”

“Evil and Naito stayed with me last night.” Hiromu closes his eyes, letting Bushi’s gentle prying of his hair be the only thing in his mind.

“And they made this mess? I’ll have words with them.” Bushi’s come to particularly nasty knot, the brush now in play. “They need to be careful with you, you’re still healing.”

“I’m nearly better.” Bushi _hmm_ s at that, the brush snagging on another knot. “How are you?”

“Huh?” Bushi can do a passable job at sounding surprised, but Hiromu knows him well enough to know that’s some bad acting. He sighs, his fingers running through the untangled portion of Hiromu’s hair. “I’m okay.”

“Mama.” Cool and sharp isn’t a tone Hiromu has to use on Bushi often, but it always yields positive results quickly.

“You still want to tag with me?” Hiromu leans back at that, staring up at Bushi. That wasn’t what he was expecting Bushi to say at all.

“What kind of question is that?” He reaches up, pulling Bushi down a little, and boosting himself up as much as his awkward position allows, pressing their foreheads together.

“I said we’d win the tag belts together, and then Shingo and I won them, and you’re still hurt, and I couldn’t get Mr Belt home to you, and –“ Hiromu cuts him off with a kiss. Bushi makes a soft, pained noise, kissing him almost desperately. “I wanted it to be _us_ who won those belts, baby.”

“It will be.” He truly believes that. “Shingo isn’t going to stay in the Junior division forever, he’s already kind of pushing it as it is, he’ll move up, and by then I’ll be one million percent better. Winning those belts would be a piece of cake for us, but it’s not like you’re lose them, so I’ll just be taking over for Shingo.” Hiromu grins up at Bushi.

“You think so.” Bushi runs a finger over Hiromu’s smile.

“Pff,” Hiromu settles back on his cushion, letting Bushi resume the task of brushing his hair, “I don’t _think_ anything.”

“I believe that.” Bushi laughs sounding far freer and miles happier, until the brush snags in another knot, and he tuts in annoyance, grumbling mildly about _talking_ to Naito and Evil.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for @hmpufnstuf on tumblr


	9. Carrying Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yohei Komatsu/Sho Tanaka

The photographer is having the makeup girl fuss with Yoh’s hair again. He’s beginning to think Sho had been smart when he’d elected to wear a hat. His hair had been tweaked slightly, and left alone. Adding to the constant hair fussing, he’s slightly annoyed that this photographer seems to think that he’s the more photogenic of the two of them. The photographer is an idiot, and wrong, but who is he to make such arguments to a professional.

“Alright, we’re gonna take some shots of you together.” The photographer is talking loudly, but looking at his camera. Still, there’s no doubts in who he’s talking to. Sho meanders over, a lazy smile on his face.

“So, this is boring.” He mutters, once he’s close enough that only Yoh can hear him. He fusses with Yoh’s hair, which he minds a lot less than the makeup girl, and gives him a satisfied smile. “There, perfect.”

“It’s only boring, because you’re not the one being photographed.” He puffs up slightly, fixing how Sho’s shirt is laying on his chest, making sure it shows off his considerable assets.

“It’s boring, because you’re dressed,” a filthy smile blossoms on Sho’s lips as he pauses, “like a single dad.”

“Single dad? I thought they were going for rogue accountant on his day off.” Beneath his shirt, Yoh makes his pecs dance. Sho rolls his eyes, but laughs at his antics.

“Can you get those hearts back in here?” Another loud call from the photographer. His harried assistant bundles the large heart cushions over to them. “Alright, uh…” The photographer looks at them blankly, Sho bumps his forehead against Yoh’s shoulder. Yoh stares at the man, willing him to pick a name, there’s only two to choose from, one of them will answer. “Grab any one you like, guys.” He almost wants to accuse the photographer of being a coward, but grabs the big red cushion instead. “Great. Now, one of you have a seat.” Yoh is vaguely considering getting name-tags. This guy clearly isn’t much of a fan of theirs, but he could make an effort to at least remember their names. Sho collapses dramatically into the chair set up in front of the chequered backdrop, his legs splayed, and looks pointedly at Yoh, that filthy grin spreading over his lips. Yoh throws the cushion at him, making Sho bark a laugh, and cradle it like a baby. Yoh drapes himself over the back of the chair, posing like he was a proud father with the mother of his beloved, furry child. The photographer starts snapping pictures. That was unexpected. Yoh glances down at Sho, he’s staring straight at the camera, but his mind is clearly elsewhere, his fingers moving in the vibrantly red fluff absently.

“You like that thing?” Yoh asks quietly, the photographer is talking with the makeup lady again, and Yoh is mildly concerned he’s going to be attacked by her and her hairbrush once more. He might have to ask Sho to defend him.

“Eh, it’s kinda tacky, isn’t it?” Sho’s still messing with the fluff, looking down at it.

“A little, but who doesn’t like a little tacky?”

“Eh.” Sho tosses him the red cushion, and grabs the pink one, holding it close to his chest, and batting his eyelids. “If you’re gonna be tacky, go all the way, right? Happy Valentine’s!” Yoh throws the red heart again, they’re in public after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for @sortofgetit on tumblr


	10. Hurry Up, And Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shinsuke Nakamura/Hiroshi Tanahashi

A moment of peace would be the greatest gift anyone could give Tanahashi. A beautiful, perfect moment of peace. It’s impossible to have though, by his own design. Peace means his mind can think, and too much thinking can lead to all manner of unpleasant, uncomfortable thought. Once in a generation sounds good, but there are new generations. He’s watched them come into the Dojo, progress through the Dojo, go on excursion, and come back, all the while with another generation starting the same trip. Once in a century feels better. He prefers the idea that there’s no one quite like him alive. He can almost hear a voice in his ear telling him he’s being melodramatic, can almost feel the amused chuckle that would follow that fond statement in his bones.

He should be able to feel that chuckle. A bitter thought, that has no place on this most romantic of days. He has a call to make. It’s mostly morning over there, at least it’s definitely night in Japan, which generally equates to morning in the US. Shinsuke answers quickly. Tanahashi recognises his kitchen, of course he’d be awake, probably catching the early morning waves, if his damp hair and lack of shirt is anything to go by.

“Did my package arrive?” Tanahashi smiles at the little image on the screen. Shinsuke appears to be distracted, his attention caught by something he can’t see.

 _“Hmm, I got it. They delivered it whilst I was away, and I had to go to the depot. It was an adventure.”_ The tone of that comment is mild, like they were sitting at the table having breakfast. It almost feels like they could be really. _“Thank you.”_ That is more sincere, given straight to camera, with the slyest of crooked smiles. He misses that smile. Every time he sees it on a screen, and not in the flesh he misses it more.

“You’re welcome,” Tanahashi can feel his own smile stretching his lips, and better yet, he can see how it morphs that sly smile into something softer, fonder, a little sadder. “How are things?”

 _“Ah, ha, well you know.”_ No, he doesn’t, but he’ll accept that for now. This is to be a nice call, not another sullen demand that he stop this nonsense and come back home to get his house in order, which is the most important part of his demands, he downplays how much he misses him. He doesn’t want to guilt Shinsuke into coming home, at least not using his heart, he’ll use Yoshi-Hashi though. _“How are my children?”_ He’s grinning now, nothing but a row of brilliantly white teeth, and crinkled eyes, with a tangle of drying hair hanging down one side of his face.

“Loud, and troublesome.” Tanahashi laughs, his finger hovers over the screen, wanting to touch the laughing face there. The last time he touched the screen, he’d accidentally ended the call, so his fingers hover only, nervously protective of little digital Shinsuke and any accidents they could cause hat might lose him.

 _“As they should be! I’m proud.”_ Shinsuke leans out of shot, coming back with the heavily taped parcel Tanahashi had sent him. _“So, I am guessing this is a Valentine?”_

“You guess right.” Tanahashi nods. “You’ve not opened it?”

 _“I was waiting to open it front of the one who sent it.”_ A flirty wink, a sleazy grin, a warm laugh. Tanahashi needs to either learn how to record these calls, or make this idiot come home. _“So, it’s labelled perishable…did you send me your heart?”_

“You already have that.” Shinsuke’s eyes widen, like he’d forgotten he’d taken Tanahashi’s heart years ago. “But, there’s plenty more of them in there, I promise.” He tacks on lamely, hoping to lighten the mood once more. Shinsuke nods, blinking a little too rapidly.

 _“Ah, so I see.”_ He pulls a large heart-shaped box out of the package, trailing a shower of little paper hearts with it. _“Thank you for this lovely amount of sweeping I have to do now.”_ Shinsuke laughs, opening the box, and popping one of the heart-shaped chocolates into his mouth whole.

“So, I guess my Valentine’s was late then?” Tanahashi’s smiling like a fool again, watching him stuff another chocolate into his mouth. Shinsuke grins at him, chocolate staining his teeth.

_“Valentine’s? Darling, I assumed you’d want your gift on White Day, after all you sent the Valentine's, not me.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for @leaveharmony on tumblr

**Author's Note:**

> written for @flickkick on tumblr


End file.
